


as if it had never been written

by bubblewrapstargirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (mostly), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Episode: s08e10 Torn and Frayed, M/M, Mesopotamia, Pre-Series, Samandriel Lives, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 19:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1196883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblewrapstargirl/pseuds/bubblewrapstargirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Samandriel is sent to Earth to find out just what the Hell is going on in eastern Europe, and unwittingly stumbles across a mystery in Mesopotamia. Demons and pagan gods aren't going to get in the way of this little virtue carrying out God's work. Not even the devilishly handsome heathen god of desert storms and disorder...</p><p> <br/> <br/>***************<br/>Guest starring Rami Malek as Seth.</p><p>[ON HIATUS INDEFINITELY]</p>
            </blockquote>





	as if it had never been written

**Author's Note:**

> Loyalty it is a pestilential thing... again and again it obscures the truth.  
> - _Agatha Christie, Murder in Mesopotamia_

RAF Habbaniya has been under siege for hours. It was small military base along the banks of the Euphrates, between Samarra and Fallujah, with a mostly civilian populace. The British had granted Iraq independence some years before the War began, and had demilitarized the vast majority of the country. Only two outposts remained; RAF Shaibah, and the smaller base at Habbaniya. With a trained force of only 2,500 men, it was practically indefensible when Rashid Ali's coup seized control of the Iraqi government and broke all lingering ties with the British. Somewhere between 6,000 and 9,000 troops had converged on the base. Not all of the meagre 2,500 were even British troops; a large chunk belonged to the RAF Assyrian Levies, whose loyalty in battle had yet to be proven. Though no shots had yet been fired, Jnr Tech Alfred Green of the No1 Armoured Car Co was justly terrified. They were surrounded by artillery on all sides, and though they'd been modifying the aircraft on the base to carry bombs since April as the civil unrest throughout the country had intensified, they were still on shaky ground. Reinforcements would be slow in coming; there was no real strategic benefit to defending this territory, save for keeping the Iraqi military from sending all its troops to assist Italy.

Alf loved helicopters- he'd been mad for them all his life. Whirring rotas and light frames perfect for low flight. They were beautiful mechanical creatures, and he'd enlisted aged 16 for an opportunity to tinker with them, rather than live and die on his parent's farm. He'd never regretted his choice, not even when the tension Europe boiled over from tough talk to outright violence, and erupted in to war. It wasn't in Alfie to complain about his lot. He was a bright soul, if not one of life's great thinkers, content to believe in God's plan for him. He was a lucky man; he'd grown up in generally comfortable circumstances, though he came from one of the poorest beginnings England had to offer. But no real tragedy had ever affected his life. His father had survived the Great War without too many horrid after-effects, and his childhood had been a happy one. He had no reason to fear that God wasn't listening to his prayers.

He had cause now. The siege had lasted only a day before the orders came to mount a continuous bombing and strafing attack to defend the base. As a Junior Technician, Alf was tasked with getting the crafts air-ready, and fixing up the wrecks that returned.

The shelling of the base had gotten underway and artie was schwacking them from all directions. Alfie raced about, wrench clutched in sweaty, greased fingers, doing his best to stay out of the worst of it. He'd been muttering the Lord's prayer on and off all day, though he was scarcely aware of it. But when the wall beside him exploded and a rain of fire and debris smashed upon him, his only thought was of his small family at home; Alf pictured the face of his beautiful young wife and their baby son, and sent up a silent scream to the Heavens; _Oh God, do not forsake me here! Let me return to them._

Then he knew no more.

***************

Samandriel stood before Naomi in silent supplication. He had been receiving Revelation when she called for him, and though it was not the way of an angel to feel resentment, Samandriel's grace was disquieted by being called upon and then made to wait. Naomi was reading while Samandriel stood stoically and very carefully did not feel irritation. An angel can digest knowledge faster than the speed of light, and the fact that she appeared to be avoiding their discussion was incomprehensible to him, and so he did not think of it. Angels, especially angels as young and untested as Samandriel, did not question their superiors- not even if they were made to wait a thousand years.

At long last, she fixed him with her bright, piercing gaze. Naomi had three heads, and it was the harpy-like face which watched him now.  Samandriel was a virtue, and had several thousand eyes across his form, many of which where on his wings. Naomi, who was surely used to issuing orders to wide variety of angels, as a dominion, was not in the least bit disconcerted by his many optical receptors. However, Samandriel only had two actual faces, and returned her gaze with the face of a hare, which is where she focused her harpy-eyes.

_You have been given a mission, Samandriel. On Earth._

Samandriel blinked, his only concession to surprise. He had not been to Earth since the aftermath of the Great Flood, where he'd been called to help sow the new seeds of humanity, along with the other other angels of fertility. 

_There are demons converging over the land now known as Europe. They are far more powerful than they should be. Vast deaths have been caused by War, and the Horseman's retinue has grown considerably. This particular war was prophesied to result in a new era for humankind. Along with several others under my ultimate command, your task is to discover the source of the demon's strength and destroy it. You will report in regularly with your findings. You are not to interfere with War or his work. You will be teamed with Nathaniel and Leliel. Is that understood?_

Samandriel bowed his heads quickly in response. _I will go at once, and do as you bid, sister._

He immediately took wing. He did not waste time wondering why a dominion had personally sent him to Earth, for a task better suited to garrison of seraphim. It was not the place of an angel to question Heaven's divine plan.

Samandriel descended to Earth in the spectre plane, resonating at a colour humans could not perceive, which only the strongest demons would be able to identify. He had landed in the same place he had last departed from Earth, a pleasant, fertile area steeped in respect and love for God. The humans here were devout and prayed often, and invoked the protection of the Host. Whilst Samandriel never paid much attention to prayers, he soaked up the power of their devotion and basked in their love for God. It was wonderful to be so close to such pious devotion, so different from the natural and enduring love of the Host for their Father. Humans were given the blessing of ignorance at birth; for them, their love for God was drawn purely on baseless faith, and the devout were thrice-blessed because of it.

The ancient olive groves of Galilee were still well-tended. Though the land was arid, the people of Israel were skilled in their irrigation techniques, and the soil in these hills was fertile, party due to Samandriel's own encouragement. Samandriel observed the small trees, listening to tales of the wind and sun and sand. It gave him pleasured amusement to stand upon the paths that the first disciples of the one true God had once tread. It was beguiling also to know that this land was named after a brother, the sweet angel of music. Samandriel could think of no greater honour that humankind could bestow upon an angel; to name the most holy of land in one's honour, where the sole occupation of many seemed to be the praise of God's glory. It was truly a divine blessing upon Israfel, whom Samandriel knew to be an exceedingly modest angel and most worthy of such an accolade.

He was not alone for long; soon he was joined by Nathaniel, closely followed by Leliel. The three immediately engaged in the closest activity angels had to a greeting. They sang to one another and the Heavenly Host; resonating their wavelengths at harmonious frequencies. Their grace spread amongst one another and mingled their thoughts, comprehension and intentions. It was a quick process, faster than the human mind could comprehend, but it was also a rare opportunity which Samandriel did not engage in often. If angels giggled, he would have done so, at the delightful feel of Nathaniel's fiery grace, and the pleasant trickle of Leliel's which mingled and coalesced with his own. Instead, he merely expressed amused pleasure at the sensation, greeting Nathaniel as an old friend and companion, and Leliel as a sister he knew only from his creation, when all angels were formed with an innate sense and knowledge of their fellow angels. She expressed the sentiment to be grateful to have this opportunity to work alongside them both, and Samandriel and Nathaniel agreed most heartily. It was an exceedingly pleasant exchange, and they separated content in the knowledge of their abilities and intent.

Now they would go their separate ways; Nathaniel to the North, Leliel to the West, and Samandriel to the East. They would route out the demons, gain insight into their diabolical intentions, and meet upon the battlefield to defeat the foul wretches sent to taint God's creation.

***************

Samandriel was in the region named Ukraine when he heard it. He had been drawn in by the presence of great evil, and though the people there were thin, starved and burdened by their abject poverty, Samandriel could sense that was not the reason he was guided there. Tragedy was upon the wind- soon there would be a great deal of work for Death and his reapers, but it was not the business Samandriel had been sent to undertake. He had been about to take wing when the scream rocketed through him, making his very essence reverberate with pain.

Holy fire seemed to lick at his grace, and he beat his wings ferociously, launching himself into the atmosphere to discover the source of the torment. With great aplomb, he landed in Mesopotamia, righteous fury burning through him. He would discover the devil's servants who could affect an angel so, and rain down Heaven's mighty judgement upon them! But before he could attempt to search for demonic presences, he was suddenly aware that a potential Vessel was close by.

Traversing the hidden plane, he drew close to the human, a young male who was struggling on the edge of death. To his great curiosity, Samandriel recognised his True Vessel, the one that he would wear at the End of All Things. To find it here was most disturbing, and almost in Death's clutches! It could only mean one thing; that the Vessel was to be taken now, and God intended Samandriel to undertake this current mission in flesh. There could be no other explanation, as angels were commanded to Earth only rarely, and one's True Vessel was to be protected and inhabited as soon as possible following discovery.

As the man struggled to remain clutching to life, Samandriel felt another great twinge of pain which coincided with the man's fight. It became clear then, the source of his pain. No angel was intended to go into Armageddon uncloaked in the skin of man; unable to fight. For Samandriel's Vessel to die here before that destiny could be fulfilled was not God's divine path. 

Serenely, Samandriel closed the distance between himself and the young man, using his power of flight to transport them out of the conflict and into the wider desert. Then pressed himself into the human's flickering consciousness.

***************

All at once, the pain receded to a level Alf barely noticed. A bright, white light surrounded him, and he was suddenly aware of another presence. Was this death? Was he being sent to Heaven?

_No, child. It is not yet time._

Alfie sighed; he wasn't sure whether or not it was relief. He didn't want to leave Margaret or little Tommy, but the white light felt so very lovely, washing over him like pure love itself...

_My name is Samandriel, Alfred Green. I am an Angel of the Lord._

Somehow, Alfie was not surprised. It was as though he had already known, and he felt only a vague pleasant satisfaction to be proved correct. He was flickering close to delirium.

_You have been chosen by God, Alfred. Will you let me use your body, and walk in your skin, so that I may carry out God's divine work on Earth?_

Alf felt a sudden bright joy, a bashful sense of pride at being singled out by an angel. By _God_.

"But what about my family? Will I get to see them again?"

Samandriel was battered with images, memories of a laughing young woman, an elderly couple smiling and waving, a fat babe rolling on a thickly woven carpet, a young man clapping and shouting encouragement. Their memories were surrounded by deep affection, the kind which bore great resemblance to Samandriel's love for his siblings, especially his nest-mates, whom he'd accompanied since the dawn of his creation. He based his decision on that affection.

_Yes. When we are done, I shall return you to your family. However, it may be some time, and you are gravely injured. It may be that you go to Heaven and God's loving grace soon after._

Alf took a moment to consider it, but did not need a long time to consider his answer.

"That's alright. I didn't think I would ever see them again. If it's my time to go, I'll accept it. Because I called out to God in my hour of need, and he sent me an angel."

_Very well. I must be granted your express permission to inhabit your body. When our task is finished, I will return you to your relations. Do you agree?_

The young soldier nodded, solemn. "I do."

***************

Feeling his grace flow into a flesh and bone entity was the single most intriguing experience of Samandriel's long existence. It was a cramping at first; Samandriel's wings curled up and then burst through the spot along the man's back on the celestial plane, being too complex for even the spectre plane. His many eyes jostled for space, pouring their function into one another like liquid metal pooled into a mould, until they lay in the newly appropriate position. Samandriel opened his new eyes.

The world was... subdued. Colours were desaturated, and gone was the bright shine of God's glory glowing off every object. He flexed his wings, reassured in his ability to fly regardless of his new confinement. He flexed his borrowed limbs carefully, assessing their usage and function. He had healed the body automatically upon entry (including the military uniform), washing it clean of all stain and imperfection. Now he tested the weight and movement of his new limbs. The whole process took seconds, and Samandriel found the results pleasing. The Vessel fit perfectly; the man's soul resonated contentedly, nestled within his grace.

Samandriel was about take wing to begin his mission, when he became aware that he was no longer alone. The eyes upon him were ancient, fixed with a cool, creeping malice. His human flesh shivered, despite the heat, and he turned his new form to face the sun. A man was framed by its golden light, casting a harsh shadow on the sand ahead of him. He was not ten paces away.

There was no stench nor taint of the demonic surrounding him, but neither was the man a mere human. He had a head of thick dark hair, skin of the palest bronze and eyes the colour of tepid seawater. His broad lips were quirked at one corner in a parody of a smile. Samandriel clenched his new jaw. He was a warrior of God, albeit an inexperienced once, and he carried the might and weight of Heaven. He would not be intimidated by some petty Earth-bound creature.

As if sensing his contempt, the man-shaped thing's eyes flashed with the threat of a challenge and his lips curled into a larger grin.

"A most impressive performance. These lands have not known your kind for many a year, little angel."

The words were spoken in the language of the ancient Egyptians, and all at once Samandriel recognised the being that stood before him.

"My business here is none of your concern, heathen."

The false god chuckled. "So quick to cast aspersions! I had forgotten that. Who are you to call me heathen? I am older than you, and I remain devout to the gods of my people."

"False idols. There is but one true God."

"You dare?" In a flurry of sand, the heathen was directly in front of Samandriel, his small eyes wide with manic fervour. "You dare to come to these lands- my lands- and deny my claim? I, who am Seth, Setesh, Sutekh, Set- god of the desert sands, the shifting storms, all that is disorder and chaos and savagery!"

Samandriel did not drop his wild gaze. "A so-called pagan god of the Egyptian pantheon. I am not the only one far from home."

With a bark of laughter, Seth threw back his head.

"The little bird has a beak after all! It's true, I left the land of my ancestors to Horus." He spat on the ground with great ferocity, his moods lightening quick. "Babylonians! Spiteful, vain little creatures. Do you know, they didn't even object when I took dominion over this land? Too busy with their petty little squabbles. Neatly wiped one another out. Only three are left and they keep themselves far away from me."

Here he paused and fixed Samandriel with his attention again. Once more, his eyes were cold and dead; glinting like the pale, shrunken eyes of a gutted fish. "You would do well to follow their example, little angel."

"No land on God's Earth is restricted to me." Samandriel said simply, and was quite startled when Seth snapped out a hand and grabbed a fistful of his left primary wing, tearing out a clump of feathers. Breathless with pain, Samandriel stumbled back. But when he looked up to confront his aggressor, there was only a gust of parched sand and the sound of laughter on the wind. 

**Author's Note:**

> Crowley knew and recognised both Samandriel and Naomi. And yet Ruby had never encountered an angel, nor met any other demons who had. Therefore it's safe to say that when Crowley encountered the angels it was long before she had any standing in Hell. (Even though Ruby died in the Black Death somewhere between 1348–50, and Crowley died in 1661, he appeared to rise through the ranks far quicker than she did to become King of the Crossroads, whereas she had to play at being a low demon even though she was Lillith's mole.) Meaning, it makes a lot of sense for her to still be in Hell doing menial jobs whilst Crowley was claiming souls left and right during the desperation of WWII. That was the most reasonable scenario I could come up with, since there's no way Crowley was around in Ancient times, regardless of what the writers suggested with their careless throwaway comments in Goodbye Stranger.
> 
> It also stands to reason that Cas, who claimed angels hadn't been "walking amongst" humans in Vesseled form for 2000+ years, wasn't involved in any of Naomi's shady negotiations, since he wasn't part of her Gestapo angel squad. Angels seem to have an almost Winchester-worthy communication problem, since Uriel and Zachariah had the same agenda but didn't know it, so I don't think it's unreasonable to assume Cas didn't know much about whatever transpired in Mesopotamia.
> 
> Samandriel clearly remembered something due to Crowley's tampering in Torn and Frayed- he didn't seem to have any problem carrying out Heaven's orders in What's Up, Tiger Mommy? and Naomi was personally invested in covering up whatever knowledge he had, over and including the fact that they were being controlled. So it makes perfect sense to me that she had tasked him with a mission like she did with Cas, controlled him, and covered up the results.


End file.
